


Postquam

by feathertail



Series: Infinity War Ashes Angst Party [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Post-Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 14:30:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathertail/pseuds/feathertail
Summary: Wanda is at peace with dying, because she knows she will see her brother and Vision again. But when she gets there, they prove hard to find.





	Postquam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FeralCreed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/gifts), [MissSparklingWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSparklingWriter/gifts), [Gyoro_and_Ururun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyoro_and_Ururun/gifts).



Wanda had fought tooth and nail to defend Vision from Thanos as she poured every last scrap of her strength into destroying the gem at the source of everything Vision was. And it had broken her heart when he had died, but to see him brought back, only to be killed again, with her watching helplessly. Cradling his body, she knew the end was near. Thanos had all of the stones now, it was only a matter of time before-

_Click_.

 

Dying came as a blessed relief from the torture in her heart, and what kept her strong through it, as she held Vision close, was the knowledge that she would soon be with him. And Pietro, too- G-d, how she had missed him. It had been years, now, and not a day went by when she didn’t think of him, or take out the photo- his photo, the one he had died with- and look at it, thumb carefully caressing the stained and frayed edge where a slug had nicked it before puncturing his heart.

It was peaceful, her passing, and she stared off into the distance as her body turned to ash, curling and twisting into pretty patterns, like her powers, as they caught the breeze, spiralling into the air, mingling with others and spreading over the earth.

 

When she opened her eyes again, she was confused by the plain colour and the unstable foundations of… wherever she was. She stood shakily, looking around. There was no-one, no-one she could see. Maybe-

“Pietro?” she called tentatively, hand instinctively reaching for the picture she kept over her breast herself these days, clutching the scrap tightly. “Pietro? Vis?” She stepped forwards, cautiously navigating the corridor-style, maze-style arena she found herself in. At some point she started running, searching and searching; she found people, so many people she didn’t recognise, and she started screaming for them, their names the only words her lips could form as she spun in circles then sprinted off again, searching desperately.

She searched for she didn’t know how long, but her voice had long cracked with sorrow and her eyes were long dry from tears, the evidence soaking her shirt and skin. Finally, her knees gave way, and she stumbled to the ground, slamming down and not caring enough to get up. Her fist crumpled the tiny photo as her face crumpled, contorting into a wail of anguish, her chest heaving with the strength of her sobs.

Careful hands grasped her shoulders out of nowhere and helped her to sitting, but she didn’t notice. The voice must have called her name a hundred times before she finally choked to a stop and managed to focus on the swimming face in front of her.

“Sam,” she gasped, and latched her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Wanda. They’re not here,” he murmured, rubbing her back, holding her close. “They’re dead, we’re just- erased.”

Slowly, he helped her up to standing, and she wiped her eyes with a sniff. She carefully unbound her fist, hating herself with the guilt swelling up inside her as she saw how crumpled the picture was.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to it, smoothing it out as much as she could. She glanced up as Sam pulled an arm around her and tugged her into a hug, and she went willingly, managing to hold it together this time as they embraced tightly.

“Thank you, Sam,” she murmured, and he smiled.

“No problem, Wanda.” He turned as someone cleared their throat off to the side, and Wanda followed suit, seeing Bucky standing there, watching them.

“Is she the last? Have we got all of them?” he asked, directing the question to Sam.

Sam nodded. “I think so. Haven’t seen any more on my travels. Let’s go.”

They didn’t tell her what was going on, but she followed them anyway, thumb carefully caressing the surface of the photo in a habitual motion Pietro had had, and then she had picked up when she had buried him and taken the photo with her. When they stopped, she looked up from the ground, eyes widening as she saw the immense scale of how many heroes had been ‘erased’ by Thanos.

There were many, many she didn’t recognise, Wakandans, aliens, and some people grouped in a corner by themselves who looked mostly human, but there were a few odd ones out – were they the mutants she had heard about? As she looked closer at everyone, she began to recognise faces. There, at the head of the Wakandans, was T’Challa, and wasn’t that awful; he seemed to be handling it admirably, though.

Next to them was a little pocket of aliens – the tree being that had hung around with the raccoon, a girl with… antennae?, a regular human, looking rather disgruntled, and a more muscular man with what looked like tattoos over his body.

Across from there, there was the Doctor, Doctor Strange, talking to a man with an eyepatch and a long leather trench coat, and a shorter woman with cropped black hair. Then, as she looked across the rest of the heroes, the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

By far the youngest there, and definitely looking the most sick and lost, was the kid, Peter Parker, Spiderman. He had his arms wrapped around himself, and he was staring at the ground, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes and back. He reminded her of herself, back on the streets, when she would stand in an alley, just like that, waiting for her brother to return with money, or food, or water. And, if what she had heard about was right, he had healing powers, meaning he would have taken longer to die than everyone else… he would have felt everything until he was just dust, and that was horrible.

She shook her head and strode over to him and, without saying a word, wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He made a muffled sort of yelping confused sound, but leaned into her, obviously fighting off tears. She rubbed a hand up and down his back softly, reassuringly.

“It’s going to be okay,” she promised quietly. “I don’t know how, but it’s all going to be alright. I promise.”


End file.
